


Tell Me What You Eat

by Miya_Morana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Courtship, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miya_Morana/pseuds/Miya_Morana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles drags the paper bag towards him and peers inside. As soon as he opens it, he gets a whiff of delicious chocolate smell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me What You Eat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the food square of my [cheaty kink bingo card](http://miya-tenaka.livejournal.com/147410.html). Beta-ed by funkyinfishnet.

“I need your help.”

It says a lot about Stiles’s life that he isn’t even startled by the gruff voice behind him.

“I’ve really grown used to werewolves sneaking into my bedroom,” he complains, turning around in his computer chair to face Derek. “What is my life?”

Derek just stands there, a couple of feet away, all dark and broody like a David Boreanaz wannabe. Stiles wonders if that makes him Willow or Xander. Willow, probably; Xander was never much into the whole research thing. Does that mean he’ll eventually get kick-ass magical powers? That would be cool.

“So, what can I do for you this time?” He asks, raising his hands in front of him and making his fingertips touch.

Derek needs info on a guy who’s passing by in town, and Stiles rolls his eyes at the Alpha’s commanding tone, turning his chair around back towards his laptop.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to have some manners,” he says as he starts typing. It’s much easier to tell Derek off when he can’t see the werewolf glaring daggers at him. “Please’s and thank you’s, like a civilized person, maybe bring the guy who’s going to spend his night doing research a treat. Like muffins or cookies. Or that delicious cappuccino from the coffee shop on Jefferson Avenue?”

Derek doesn’t reply, but Stiles can feel his eyes glaring at the back of his neck.

“Okay, I’m on it, but it’s hard to concentrate with you just standing there, staring.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow to see what you found,” Derek grits through his teeth.

“Sure,” Stiles says, already typing away on the laptop, searching for info. 

If he’s honest with himself, Stiles actually _likes_ the research. It’s like putting together the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but having to find the pieces through a scavenger hunt first. It vaguely occurs to him that he would make a good cop, if that didn’t imply always playing by the rules.

“Thanks.”

Stiles swivels around in his chair, shocked, but Derek’s already gone, the cold night air drifting in through the open window.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

***

Derek is waiting for him at his desk when Stiles gets home after school the next day. He’s just sitting there on the computer chair, not moving, looking at the bedroom door as if he’d been there for hours, though it could just as well have only been minutes.

Stiles sighs and closes the door, dropping his bag on the bed to dig out his laptop. He brings it to the desk and notices the brown paper bag sitting there.

“What’s this?” he asks as he opens the laptop and turns it on before dropping down on his spare chair. It’s unfair that Derek’s on the comfortable one.

“It’s for you,” Derek replies gruffly.

The Alpha’s face is its usual blank, vaguely angry-at-the-world mask. The computer is still booting, so Stiles drags the paper bag towards him and peers inside. As soon as he opens it, he gets a whiff of delicious chocolate smell.

“Dude, brownies!” 

He digs one out and eagerly sinks his teeth into it. It tastes delicious: strong, dark chocolate and macadamia nuts and something sharper, maybe a hint of cayenne? Stiles is aware he’s making noises as he savors the divine brownies, noises like moans and small whimpers, and Derek is glaring at him from his chair but Stiles doesn’t even care.

As soon as the laptop’s done booting up, though, he opens a few files and starts talking around a mouthful of chocolate-y goodness, exposing his findings.

“Dude,” he says in the middle of his speech, “seriously, these are _amazing_ , you should have some!”

He holds out the almost-empty paper bag towards Derek, who shakes his head.

“They’re for you.”

“Your loss,” Stiles replies with a shrug before moaning a little as he bites into the last one.

Stiles starts talking again, and the next time he slips his hand into the paper bag he finds it empty. He makes a sad noise then, because this is clearly _tragic_. When he looks up at Derek the Alpha’s closing the files on the laptop.

Derek gets up. He looks down at Stiles, grits out a “Thank you”, and starts climbing out the window. Stiles grabs his leather jacket to stop him. Derek, who already has one leg out, stares at the hand until Stiles lets go of him, but then he doesn’t leave, just watches Stiles expectantly.

“Hum, just, you’re welcome?” Stiles says, rubbing his neck.

Derek nods again, and then he’s jumping down to the yard and walking off into the night. Stiles sighs, getting up to close the window and draw the curtains. It’s weird to see Derek trying to make an effort at being civilized, but it’s also sort of nice. 

He sits down in his computer chair, which is so much more comfortable than the spare one, and takes a good whiff of the chocolate smell left in the paper bag. He can still taste the brownies, the way they almost melted in his mouth.

***

There are cookies at the next pack meeting. Chocolate chip cookies on a big white plate on the wobbly table, and Stiles doesn’t even think twice before grabbing one and stuffing it in his mouth. The chips are dark, bitter chocolate and the cookie dough is laced with ginger and cinnamon. It’s the best cookie Stiles has ever tasted.

Everyone is looking at him like he’s about to drop dead or something, except Derek. Derek is looking at him with the barest hint of a smile, and there’s something different in the way he squints his eyes at him. Stiles is too busy biting into his cookie and making approving noises to really wonder what this is all about.

Stiles eats most of the cookies while Derek talks. Lydia eventually snags one, and then Scott takes two and Isaac grabs the last one before Stiles can. Stiles tries not to pout and resists the urge to lick his fingers.

Apparently, there’s another pack in town. Though they arrived a couple of days earlier they haven’t caused any trouble as far as Derek knows, and the Argents aren’t aware of their presence yet.

“They shouldn’t be in our territory and I want them gone. If possible without having to chase them off or involving hunters. So we’re going to their den tonight to talk to them. We don’t know if they’re dangerous or not, which is why the humans will stay at home, and I mean it this time,” he growls that last part, looking at Stiles. 

Stiles rolls his eyes and absent-mindedly licks his finger. It still tastes of chocolate and ginger.

“I wonder what’s up with Derek” Scott tells him at the end of the meeting, and when Sties shoots him a questioning look he adds “you know, with the cookies. It’s not really Derek’s style to offer us cookies. And then you arrived and went straight for them like it was normal to have the Alpha feeding us, and you started making these noises and…”

Scott trails off, looking uncomfortable, which is weird because he should be used to the noises Stiles makes when he eats. Stiles has always been a sweet tooth. And vocal.

“No clue dude,” Stiles lies with a shrug, suspecting it might have something to do with his speech about being civilized. “But hey, I’m not going to complain about delicious free food.”

Scott laughs.

***

They’re meeting the other pack early on Sunday morning, which is probably the only reason Stiles doesn’t try to sneak in. He really isn’t a morning person. Still, he wakes up much earlier than he should, too anxious to sleep. He tries to pass the time by mindlessly surfing the internet, but not even TvTropes manages to keep his attention long enough. His eyes fall on the empty paper bag still on his desk, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

_Is everything going okay?_

Scott’s reply doesn’t arrive fast enough for him.

_yeah. dont worry. i’ll tell u all l8r._

Stiles groans, because texting is no excuse not to write proper words, but the knot in his stomach loosens up a bit.

It’s not Scott that drops by to keep him up to date though. There’s a knock on Stiles’ window five minutes later, and Stiles opens it to face a grumpy werewolf and a cup of steaming coffee from the place he mentioned the other day.

Wondering for a second how Derek managed to climb on his roof without dropping it, he grabs the cup as the Alpha lets himself in. Derek sits down on the computer chair Stiles just vacated and doesn’t make a move to get the coffee back, so Stiles supposes it’s another one of these ‘civilized person’ offerings he’s been getting.

Grateful, he takes a long sip, the liquid running against his tongue, warm and rich and strong, with a hint of cinnamon.

“Mmmh, oh man I needed that!” he almost moans, licking his lips as he feels the caffeine already kick in and give his body an extra boost. 

Derek is looking at him the same way he did at the pack meeting while he was eating the cookies. Stiles doesn’t really know if it’s a death glare of ‘I’ve already made the effort of bringing you something, don’t make me listen to your food noises’ or one of ‘dude, it’s just _food_ , get over it’, but it’s kind of intense.

“Um, thanks,” Stiles says. “For the coffee I mean. It’s perfect.”

“Obviously,” Derek replies without a blink.

“Yeah, right. Back to the point, I get it.” Stiles sits down in the other chair. “So, how did it go?”

Derek tells him, watching Stiles stifle a yawn and grab the coffee cup. Yup, it still taste as delicious now as it did a minute ago. Stiles tilts his head up as he almost empties the cup, swallowing long gulps of the delicious black liquid. When he looks back to Derek, the werewolf averts his eyes, as if he’d been caught staring. Which is ridiculous, because Derek is _always_ staring.

The visiting pack had no idea there were werewolves in the area again, or hunters. They’ll be gone in a couple of days. Stiles makes a contented noise and puts the cup back on his desk. Then yawns again.

“You should get some rest,” Derek tells him, like it’s some sort of order.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Stiles mumbles, shrugging even though the Alpha’s probably right. “I can’t, anyways, I have stuff to do with my dad. Thanks for coming over rather than just calling, though. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Derek groans out. When Stiles’ face carries his lack of comprehension, he elaborates: “I had to come if I wanted to bring you coffee.”

“Oh,” is all Stiles manages.

Then Derek is standing up and leaving through the window. Shaking his head slightly, Stiles finishes his coffee before joining his father downstairs.

***

Five days later, Stiles is watching YouTube videos sitting on his bed when hears his window open. He doesn’t even have to raise his head up to know who it is, because there’s a delicious smell invading his bedroom.

Derek sits down on the bed next to Stiles, who carefully puts down his laptop to take the paper bag the Alpha is holding out to him. Muffins. Raspberry muffins, to be more exact. Stiles is very tempted to make happy dolphin noises just at the sight and smell of them.

“So, how are you doing?” he asks, carefully pulling one of the two muffins out of the bag. It’s still lukewarm. Stiles brings it up to his noise and inhales deeply, his mouth watering.

“You were right,” Derek replies, watching him take a careful bite of the pastry.

“I’m always right,” Stiles says, and then “ _oh my God_ , there’s white chocolate in these!”

Derek smirks, and Stiles moans, taking another bite. White chocolate and raspberry is an evil combination of deliciousness in Stiles’ book. Maybe Derek is trying to kill him with muffins. If that’s the case, Stiles doesn’t mind.

“So, what was I right about?” he asks after swallowing.

“It didn’t kill me to have some manners. To act like a civilized person. To be nice to people.”

“Ah,” Stiles says, a soft moan escaping his lips because, seriously, that muffin is so good he could have sex with it. Or not, ‘cause that would be a waste. Derek is watching him in this weird way again, like he had at the pack meeting. Like Stiles has done something _good_. Stiles swallows, and it takes him a couple of seconds to remember what they were talking about. Right. Derek being a nice werewolf. “So, I’m not the only one you’ve been bribing with food then.”

“I brought cookies to the pack meeting,” Derek shrugs, so Stiles guesses that he _did_ get a special treatment. “I’ve tried the pleases and thank you’s though, and my wolves seem to be in a better mood.”

Stiles nods. “Of course they are. Look at me, I’m in a great mood, and it’s not only because of the delicious, _delicious_ food, but also your whole being nice thing. By the way, you have to tell me where you buy these things, because I’ve never tasted anything that good in Beacon Hills before.”

“I made them.”

Stiles’s mouth drops slightly open in shock, but he realizes he still has muffin in it and it must look very unattractive, so he closes it and swallows.

“You…made them?” he asks, holding out what’s left of his muffin, and Derek nods. “And the cookies? And the brownies? Wow. But why?”

Derek digs two fingers into the remains of the muffin, breaks a bit of the pastry and brings it up to Stiles’s lips, who opens his mouth without even thinking. Derek’s fingers brush against his lips, dip ever so slightly into his mouth, and then Stiles realizes he just _licked Derek’s fingers_.

“Because I like the way you sound when eat them,” he says, very seriously. “Because I like the way you look, when your eyes close and your tongue chases the taste of sugar on your lips.” Derek brings his thumb to his own lips and slowly, deliberately, sucks on his fingertip. “Because I like to know that something I made makes you do these things.”

Stiles is, for once, lost for words. Derek is there, on his _bed_ , and Stiles is suddenly very aware of how close the werewolf is, and he’s looking at Stiles with this intense stare, waiting, expecting Stiles to say something, anything, because… Because Derek freaking Hale just came on to him. And has apparently been seducing him with food. Which is, admittedly, a very effective seduction plan.

The silence stretches as Stiles takes in this new development of the situation. Of course he can’t deny that Derek is incredibly attractive, you’d have to be blind to not notice, but he’s never really thought of the werewolf that way. At first he was probably way too scared of the sour, possibly murderous werewolf, and when the fear was gone Derek had just been _Derek_ , the still sour Alpha who sort of was his friend. The possibility there might be more never even crossed his mind.

Derek huffs, exasperated by Stiles’s uncharacteristic silence. He leans in, putting one hand on the other side of Stiles’s body, crowding him but giving him plenty of time to back out. Until there is no time left, because Derek’s lips are brushing against Stiles’s. Stiles opens his mouth to draw in a sharp, surprised breath, and Derek takes it as an invitation, moving his lips, brushing his tongue against Stiles’s lips.

It feels strange, but kind of in a good way. Very tentatively, Stiles starts kissing back, and for a few seconds things are just awesome. Then Derek’s hands are grabbing his shoulders and the Alpha pushes him forcefully down against the mattress, where he pins him down as he starts kissing Stiles’s neck, and as much as Stiles enjoys _that_ , Derek’s hands on his shoulders hold a little bit too tight.

“Wow, wow,” Stiles half-whines, half moans. “Fragile human down here, you’re hurting me.”

Derek lets go and sits up, looking down at Stiles with shock. Stiles sits up too. He licks his lips, and Derek’s eyes drop to his mouth, which makes Stiles grin. Yeah, he can do this. He’s totally on board.

“Just, be a little careful, okay?” Stiles says, leaning close to Derek. “I know it’s in your nature to slam me against walls and stuff, and now that I think of if I may have very dirty images popping into my head, but what I mean is, keep in mind I don’t heal werewolf-fast?”

“Okay,” Derek says shortly.

It’s Stiles who initiates the second kiss, Stiles who then pushes the Alpha down on his back and marvels at the fact that Derek lets him straddle his hips. Stiles who drags the remaining muffin and makes Derek eat some, so that when they kiss again the werewolf’s mouth tastes like raspberry and white chocolate on top of _Derek_.

When they part for breath, Stiles straightens up, looking down at Derek lounging lazily on his bed, under him, and he knows they are both too tight in their jeans, though he isn’t sure he’s quite ready go much further yet. A few minutes ago he didn’t even know he was ready to have Derek’s lips on his, so…

Derek’s hands are on his hips, fingers warm against Stiles’s skin where his shirt as ridden up a little. The werewolf slowly smiles at him, and there’s something both scary and exhilarating in the flash of teeth.

“So,” Derek says, licking his lips, “should I bring whipped cream the next time I come to see you?”

Stiles grins. “Not next time,” he says, shaking his head. “But maybe the one after that?”


End file.
